


Paradise By The Dashboard Light

by hellhoundsprey



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bottom Jensen, Cock Cages, Cock Rings, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Feminization, First Love, First Time, Hormones, Humiliation, Jensen Cries A Whole Damn Lot, M/M, Micropenis, Orgasm Control, Prostate Milking, Rope Bondage, Sex Toys, Top Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 06:12:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8737852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhoundsprey/pseuds/hellhoundsprey
Summary: Size does matter for Jared, and that’s why Jensen is perfect for him.Original prompt from Theboys: I was going through the kink meme but I'm apparently really into J2 or SPN where for some accepted reason Dean/Jensen has super small, unable to get hard cock and balls and someone humiliates him concerning it (his partner, probably Sam or Jared bc I'm a slut) and then sequels where just other people do it idk i love humiliation. And he cries probably and is reluctantly aroused and then finally comes around full force and ACCEPTS THE EMASCULATION AND JUST cries and is pretty and dies and is humiliated and gets off so hard and is confused about being so turned on.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Theboys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theboys/gifts).



Jared’s already told him ‘I love you’ a long time before tonight, but he’s never said it this often, this reverent.

It’s embarrassing.

Jensen wants to call it all off, but Jared kisses him so lovely that it’s hard to say anything at all.

There’s a faucet-runny dick in Jensen’s hands for the first time, ever, and Jared’s plucking at him in return as if he was made of daisies.

“It’s like a clit,” Jared love-sighs, and all of Jensen throbs at that, clenches. The betrayal cuts deep.

Jensen’s never been good at holding back tears.

“Why’d you—why would you call it—I’m not—”

“No, it’s perfect, you’re perfect, you’re so, god, I love you, I love you so so much, baby; don’t cry, don’t cry.”

Jared can come like they do it in porn; strong and loud and in bucketfuls. Lashes and mouth flutter over Jensen’s face while it happens, Jared’s breath held somewhere Jensen wants to live in. It’s overwhelming to be a part of this. Of Jared. Everything of Jared.

He’s pink-licking his own mouth then, asks, “Does yours even work? Uh, I mean,” and he means and doesn’t mean it exactly like he says and he groans in some foreign language when Jensen has to painfully admit, “Not—not really. No.”

Jared insists on trying nevertheless. _Just want to make you feel good, baby, let me, it won’t hurt, promise._

The ways Jensen used to try _had_ hurt. He’s got scars to show.

He has to push his boyfriend off after the few tentative touches (all that anxiety makes it hard to breathe).

Things didn’t go perfectly, but at least they didn’t go how they could have gone.

~

The tender giant Jensen is going out with for (by now) almost a year is thoughtful, respectful. Doesn’t ask for anything, probably smelled Jensen’s fear ten miles up the wind. And that’s okay. After all, Jensen’s never been hiding the fact that he _has_ problems. He’s just never disclosed them to anyone, ever.

Maybe Jared’s relieved it isn’t some sexual childhood or high school or summer camp trauma. He’s understanding and sweet and vows by the hour that he doesn’t mind, he loves him in any way, every way.

Jared is all breathless and Jensen can feel that pulse-line fattening up against his thigh. Holds back from pawing at it, trying its weight. He keeps looking into Jared’s watery eyes, the flushed skin making up his face.

“So, you’ve never? With. With _any_ one?”

They kiss because that’s easier than talking. Jared rolls them over until his hard-on can rub between Jensen’s legs, a practiced rut. It hurts, squishes Jensen oddly, and he’d thrash harder if Jared wasn’t pinning him down.

“I want to do it all with you. Like. All of it. Whenever you’re ready.”

Jensen hurts.

~

“You’re so soft,” said Jared after their first kiss, and, “You’re so soft,” says Jared with two hands down the back of Jensen’s jeans, groping so hard he’s gaping underneath his clothes, his underwear.

Jensen’s sneakered toes are just-so pucker-kissing the gravel. Jared can lift him with one arm only, but two feel like flying.

Jared bites Jensen’s lip as naturally as he plugs one big thumb up against Jensen’s asshole.

There are no words, just one sharp gasp, a tremble deep down. He’s the closest to being aroused he’s probably ever been, and it’s scaring the shit out of him.

“J-Jay, n-n—uh.”

“Uh-huh.”

All between the festival crowd and them are a few feet of distance. Jared bounces Jensen’s ass on his hands, flirts his thumb through accumulated sweat, rubs him open-closed. The chafe on Jensen’s shoulder blades only registers halfway.

Jensen groans.

“Yeah, that’s it, get it. Rub yourself off on my hand, c’mon.”

There’s no erection, no ejaculation, but it’s. Something.

Jared sends him a dick pic later, that very night, once they’re tucked away in their respective apartments again.

That monster would look like a death sentence even without the ‘thinking about your pussy rn’.

Jensen’s stomach tightens. He types quickly.

Jared’s reply is a little slower (probably one-handed).

 _duh_  
_yeah, it is_  
 _tiny + pink + wet?_  
 _sounds like a pussy to me baby_

Jensen deletes his ‘don’t’, instead sends, ‘how can you know it’s pink if you haven’t seen it’.

_you could show me_

Heart-rate somewhere through the roof. Jensen’s throbbing again.

_baby c’mon  
show daddy that pussy_

Jared replies in devil smileys to Jensen’s ‘you’re a BRAT’.

 _baby please_  
_I bet it’s so cute_  
 _little kitten nose_  
 _little baby cunt_

The bed squeaks pathetically. Jensen’s body does the same; knees hugged tight to his chest, wrist wrestling with both holding the phone and sparing a thumb for the shutter release.

He sighs at the sight of himself, hits ‘send’ and shuts off the screen, jams his eyes closed.

Rolls over the bed, sideways, fits a hand between hips and bed, fingers at his soft-softer-softest bad joke of a cock before he slips up his balls, his taint. Every buzz of his phone brings him a shiver but he staves himself off reading the texts; has an idea about what they’re like, what they’re saying, and he feels so goddamn stupid for playing into Jared’s cards like that.

What is he _thinking_? He can’t deal with the consequences. At. All.

It’s ringing now. He can’t exactly ignore that, can he.

_“Babe is that a hormonal thing too or are you shaved, do you wax it, I’m, Jesus fucking **Christ** Jensen Ross **Ack** -les.”_

Jensen whimpers, presses his ear on the phone into the bed so he has both hands free to paw at himself under his sweatpants. “What’s it matter?”

Not-so distant slick noises. Jared must be jerking off right now. _“Jen baby it matters the **world** , it’s **you** , I want to know everything about you, every tiny little piece.”_

“You’re such an idiot.”

_“Are you getting off right now?”_

Two-finger press, circling dry. Jensen runs just a little hotter, starts with, “Uhm,” but has no vocabulary for what’s even going on.

 _“Baby, talk to me.”_ Jared sound impossibly closer, almost secretive. Like he’s right here with Jensen. _“You’ve got your hand down there, don’t you. Tell me what you’re doing.”_

“J-Jay—”

_“Nuh-uh, shhh, c’mon, tell Daddy.”_

Swallowing hurts. “I’m uh I’m. I’m rubbing it.”

_“Rubbing your what?”_

“My. L-like you did, today.”

A sharp click on the other end of the lines makes Jensen jolt. A squirt of wet, then the sounds from earlier return, louder now.

Jensen’s burning up, waits for the next instruction with his breath held tight.

 _“You’re fingering your pussy, sweetheart?”_ (Jared sounds trembling.)

“It’s—it’s not a.”

_“You’ve got any lube?”_

Jensen bites his lip. His nostrils flare on the exhale. “N-no.”

_“Then put that finger in your mouth. Get it wet.”_

Jensen does. He spreads his legs a little wider at the new sensation.

_“Way better, hm? God, wish I could see you right now. Flushed little baby. Bet you’re red all over.”_

“Jared, shut _up_.”

Jensen huffs into the phone as he gets his free hand down to his front, cups his genitals. It’s not exactly devastation…more like _frustration_. He starts massaging them along in hope for whatever, sucks his fingers again, rubs them down hard enough to almost make the middle one slip in.

When it does, on the next stroke, he gasps.

His boyfriend on the other side of town murmurs, _“Do you feel good?”_ and god, Jensen nods without lying.

~

Jared has a full body mirror in his bedroom. Jensen doesn’t exactly like coming over here.

“Let me see you, Jen.”

He lets Jared unbutton him. They’ve been dating for so long now, but this is new, this is painful. Jensen’s opening up a lot since and for Jared but there are walls, and they’re hard to tear down.

“Nh, d-don’t…don’t stare at them like that.”

“But they’re so beautiful. They’re right _there_ , jus’. Fuck.”

Jensen crosses his arms over Jared’s hands on his chest. He’s being fondled now, tilts his face down-away to avoid seeing whatever is on Jared’s features. He gets his neck sucked on, kissed.

“You’re perfect. Anyone’s ever told you that, Jenny?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Then why’re you here?”

Jensen tenses. Pulled tight to Jared’s chest, he can feel both of their heartbeats.

One hand disappears from Jensen’s chest so Jared can pull out his phone, look Jensen in the eye, play the voice message from last night.

_“I—I—w-want you t-to f-f-fuck m-my. M-my. Jaypleasefuckmypussyplease.”_

Jensen feels like combusting, here, now.

Jared’s breathing so hard his chest is swelling with it.

“Still want that?”

Jensen grabs Jared’s hand, nods his head.

Jared squeezes back. “Then say it.”

“Whu—why do you have to _be_ like that?”

A smile tugs on Jared’s mouth. Jensen’s back arches without his consent at the tingle of a hand pushing down, dipping into his sweatpants and between his cheeks.

Jared’s fingertips tap-smack over his hole and taint.

“Say it or I send you back home.”

Jensen wants to protest. Give a comeback, tell Jared to go fuck himself.

But god. God.

There isn’t enough air in Jensen.

“I—I c-came here so. So you can f-f-fuck m-my. My. My—my pussy.”

Jared smiles schoolboy-sweet. “That’s right.”

There’s things Jensen shared in the past, but nobody’s ever got as much of him as Jared. There isn’t even a basic idea of comparison to work with. Jensen’s kissed before (willingly), he’s been touched before (unwillingly)—just not loved like this, held like this, kept safe like this.

Jared is hand-mouth working his tits, and it’s not even _that_ wrong.

Jared’s got heating lube that’s scented like green apples. Jensen shivers apart on that one single finger, hooked into him down to the webbing. If he wasn’t checking, he wouldn’t ever think he _isn’t_ hard right now.

This, now, is sort of devastating.

So not even _that_ works. Not even when it’s with _Jared_.

Jensen’s vision goes blurry; he closes his eyes, wills himself to concentrate on the weird pleasure-like whatever he’s got, what’s given to him.

“Wanna see what a _real_ dick’s like?”

Jensen blinks between their bodies, watches the practiced flick of wrist Jared uses to whip his cock out and smack it down on Jensen’s too-soft belly.

Jensen quivers around the apple-finger.

“Uh-huh. And it’s all yours.”

Jared is slurring; dick-drunk, tit-fazed. (It’s been hard to keep him off his chest ever since that one evening Jensen felt confident and comfortable enough to leave the binder in the closet. Movie night, Die Hard Three to Four.)

Next to Jared’s Own Entity sized cock, Jensen’s looks so much more ridiculous than it does anyway.

Jensen sobs, wants and tries to push Jared off in a sudden fit to escape the humiliation, but Jared holds him down, won’t let him go anywhere—and isn’t he _right_?

Jensen _has_ nowhere to go. This is his life. His body. He can’t change it.

(If treatment had been initiated earlier, yes, but, at this point? Mr. Ackles, I’m sorry but you shouldn’t, uhm—get your _hopes_ up.)

It’s eleven AM somewhere outside of this room, out of the radius of heat Jared is emitting. He bleeds it all into Jensen; hands, mouth, chest. He can suck most of Jensen’s tit into his mouth, all at once, and Jensen sobs for that, clenches on the tacky smack of diamond-cut dick over his navel.

“If it’s too fast, then—”

“No, it’s okay, it’s, I, I want it. I want it.”

God. One week ago, they weren’t even thinking past first base.

“Baby.”

Two fingers, three. It’s a flutter-fit and Jensen grinds with it.

“Baby, how’re you so fuckin’ perfect.”

Four fingers, _feels_ like four, they pull him open to the room and air and Jared; Jensen’s overgrown puppy on boyfriend-knees and hair all messy, sticking wild and unshowered. Looks and feels like fever.

“Oh my god, you sweet little girl.”

Jared’s voice breaks on the _god_ , but Jensen’s shame whacks him around the head, hard, at that something a few syllables later.

“Pink like a dream. Like a princess, baby, _fuck_.”

Jensen is stiff everywhere but where it would count, and he clings on to the animal he loves most when it leans down over him to close its maw over one breast again, wills Jensen’s thighs wider apart with both hands, both legs.

The groan-pop when he releases the peak of Jensen’s most-hated tissue is obscene in a way he must have picked up somewhere along watching too much porn; that’s all Jensen allows himself to believe, because no, Jared having done this with someone else, a girl, someone not-him, that’s. He couldn’t. He can’t.

Wrinkles pulled out flat by two pressing thumbs, Jensen’s asshole has severe troubles puckering up against the slick-slide of cockhead.

“Gotta tell me _now_ ,” rumbles something to Jensen’s left, tucked tight into his nape, caught in both their sweat and the clutch of Jensen’s arms. “Last chance, now, or I won’t. I, I won’t, Jen, you don’t know what this feels like, to.”

Jensen’s, “Do it,” gets choked off halfway.

Jensen is impaled before inches eight nine ten eleven; then, he’s barely breathing anymore.

(Jared’s as big as he is impatient.)

Jared sobs, “You’re so, Jen, god, I love you, I love you so much, baby you feel like _Heaven_ inside,” and he’s rocking all of Jensen’s leftover secrets right out of him.

If Jensen ever imagined having sex, he’d never dreamed it would be like this.

Feeling so small and crushed. Overflowing, being overfull, over-everything.

Jensen tries hard, hard, to make himself sound anything like Jared, big wonderful beautiful charming Jared, sunk so deep in Jensen’s boy-pink he’s grunting for it, humps into it like a pillow, a fleshlight it’s so soft (that’s how Jensen imagines it that deep down; all squishy-pink and unseen and untouched and unprepared). But Jensen _is_ soft, is, _is_ , and he’s got no air, chokes off light-headed and high-pitched somethings, halfway suffocates on Jared’s hair that’s now shifting to get into his mouth.

“See, see? This is what you were _made_ for.”

Ankles crossed; Jared’s lower back is in constant movement at this point, snaps the narrowest hips Jensen’s ever laid eyes and hands on. Jared’s still wearing his Pokémon t-shirt. (Jensen’s little-big nerd likes pulling him along on walks to catch tiny colorful digital monsters, have Jensen praise him for his collection.)

Jensen is down to what must resemble vocals. He’s tried shrooms last year but never, ever felt this out of body, one with the universe, fucking _complete_.

“Baby—girl—Daddy’s gonna—load—you— _up_ —”

Things snap, all of them, at once, and Jensen gasp-moans as he curls up, up, stomach cramping and thighs jelly-shaking, and.

God, he can feel every _gush_.

Jared humps through it, presses in and in and in as if there was any more for him to get inside of. Goes less taut over Jensen after some time, raises his head to kiss over-in Jensen’s mouth. Brings one shaky hand to run along Jensen’s cheek, jaw, neck, kneads a breast, slides further down.

Only as it cools does Jensen become aware of the wetness.

Jared’s eyes pussyfoot open. His mouth is so shiny the parting of his lips must be heard nation-wide.

“Baby girl,” and Jensen dies a little more, “you never told me you’re a squirter.”

~

Reasons for Jared to pull out of his boyfriend quickly narrow down to a mere handful:

Toilet breaks, school, grocery shopping.

Showering and eating are grey areas.

Jensen is sore in ways that make him want to stay put and move in with Jared, go buy rings or something. Which is all kinds of sick keeping in mind he’s too dry for tears anymore, sobs wrung-out protests on Jared’s always-wet cock.

Love or not, Jared is a complete jerk-off.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it—”

Jensen’s rope-bound body jiggles with every jackrabbit collision and his neck bends dangerously. Jared’s got him good: one hand on his hip and one fist in his hair.

Jensen hasn’t seen straight for an hour now. It registers, though, that that hand reaches around to pet at his belly, press down. Jensen’s throat contracts with the moan his vocal cords can’t produce with this little space.

“That’s it, that’s me; feel this?”

Yes, yes, god, Jensen does, always does.

Jared angles and slams just because he can (and because, he’s told Jen this, that he loves to hear him mewl like a broken doll). “Jesus Christ, can feel it in your _stomach_ , take it so deep for me, Jenny.”

“Puh—puh-lease, uh, t-touch my, t-touch mine, please—”

“Your what, huh?”

“M-m-my, y-y-you know what, m-my—”

“Baby,” Jared purrs, skirts his fingers just a few inches _off_ , “baby, what’s that between your legs?”

“M-m-my—Jay fuck _please_ I’m—”

“C’mon; what’s Daddy’s favorite thing in the whole world?”

Jensen’s garbling over his distended tongue after Jared’s rearranged him over the falling-apart dresser, face down and side-turned so Jared can see him stutter.

Jensen can come hands-free, but not after that initial time, especially not ever since Jared’s managed to rub-squeeze at him right with two blessed fingers.

Jared’s living on easy, repetitive vocabulary. It doesn’t lessen the sting.

“M-my, m-m-my, my, my cuh—my c-clit, my—”

The neighbors are too embarrassed to call the cops anymore.

~

“God. This is sad.”

Jensen tries to concentrate, shut out that voice. (So cruel it could as well be his own.) His head gets jerked on by a vice-grip into his hair.

He whines.

“This is what you are now, huh? Dirty little bitch.”

Jensen shakes his head and announces different versions of No all the while he keeps humping Jared’s leg. His thighs are burning. He’s afraid it won’t work—and that he even has room to _think_ about that makes everything worse.

Jared lifts his foot so his toes nudge at Jensen’s hole. He laughs when Jensen tries to chase the friction, tilts his hips, just to have it taken away again.

“No-no, we talked about that. Clit or nothing. C’mon, be my good girl.”

The earlier rhythm is being resumed.

Jared leans back against the sofa, arms behind his head, and sigh-smiles all contented.

“Yeah. That’s it, huh. That’s what you need, isn’t that right?”

Jensen can’t answer. He doesn’t have to.

~

It’s tiny-tiny and baby pink, and Jensen for the love of God can’t figure out what is worse.

Weighing more than a flower but less than an apple, they both have their eyes on how flirtingly it rolls around in the width of Jensen’s palm.

“I want that on you,” says Jared, the fucking jerk, as if that wasn’t the obvious thing happening here.

“I dunno.”

“You’ll like it.”

“Mh, I dun. Uhm.” Jensen cringes his legs together as if in protection, baby-blinks up at his boyfriend who’s all crimson and stone, dick probably straining already (Jensen doesn’t need to check). “But we’ve just. I mean we’ve just figured out how I can. And now you want to. Y-you want to put a _lock_ on me?”

Jared’s cheeks dimple up, hard. “What, like it would make any difference.”

Jensen glares and heats up equally.

Jared scoots closer, holds Jensen’s hands now, kisses over knuckles. “But think about it. It would be so hot.”

“Yeah, for _you_ ,” Jensen bites.

God, Jared’s entire face is nothing but a Venus trap.

Especially when he smiles. Like that.

“Seeing you pent up, squirming on me? Wet little baby girl, desperate to sit on Daddy’s big fat cock. Get off like that, no other way? Baby, who _wouldn’t_ find that hot.”

“Stop. You _stop_ fucking with my _head_ , Padalecki.”

“No way.”

“Ja- _rid_!”

“Jen- _sin_ ,” grins Jared.

God, Jensen hates him.

~

Jensen got his first fake cock at the ripe age of eighteen.

With it settled between his legs, he could finally feel somewhat like a man.

He knows its weight and texture so well like it’s truly a part of himself. It warms to him, gives him a good heft to strut with, cowboy-bent knees ’cause Mommy and Daddy raised all their babies on horsebacks, ’s practically law. Jensen feels safest with his beloved rubber, and his world would end if it one day disappeared.

With the added bulge of the cage, he almost doesn’t need it. He experiments with socks until he’s modelled a somehow genuine shape. He has been hiding all his life. He’s good at this shit.

Sitting in class, Jensen is baffled by how masculine his entire situation is. As if his cock _needs_ to be put behind bars. As if it could spring full and free otherwise at every moment. As if he needs to be kept from coming—like any other man would be.

Precome hasn’t happened to Jensen in all of the twenty-eight years of his life, ever, until week three on lock-down, Jared’s fingers playing on the bare breasts under Jensen’s Star Wars tee (a borrowed one; their laundry gets mixed up, it’s not exactly his fault).

Jensen is cursing and crying and confessing his love, all the tender-raw bits and pieces of it, and Jared drinks up the whole lot, greedy in that pure way of his with his eyes wide open.

He’s denied the already overdue milking for another two days. Jared back-hands him for the first time then. It’s the last resort he must have had to make Jensen shut up, and it works.

Jensen’s mouth is as runny as Jared’s dick, somewhere, Jensen can’t tell much with how slow he’s being sunk into spread-open on his back, floor only touched by back of shoulders and head, bent in two on cock. Can tell Jared’s gonna nut, deep, ’cause he’s been jerking it in front of his face for a while before this. Nothing Jensen says or does or promises makes Jared give in though. Jared’s cock slips out spent and without much friction at all, and Jensen wails like some unruly child.

Jared gets him baby-pink mittens for inside the apartment so he won’t try to do anything about his predicament. Won’t let him put on any clothes either because Jensen’s refused the skirt.

There’s strict rules on getting off, and even when Jensen manages to ace them all, Jared invents a new reason every now and then to put him away wet, gaping and dripping but unfinished.

It’s ‘Daddy’ and ‘breed my slutty cunt’ and ‘please please please’ or Jensen doesn’t even get _looked_ at.

It’s cruel, it’s fucking horrible.

Come home—get undressed—put the mittens and cuffs on—get on the fucking floor and wait till you’re spoken to, slut. “’Cause that’s what you are,” reminds Jared, smearing big-boy dick across Jensen’s face, slaps him with it until it _really_ stings. Until Jensen is crying and begging.

“And not just any slut either. Always hungry, aren’t you. Oh, I can tell, sweetheart. Anyone can. But you’re mine, aren’t you?”

Jensen keens at the slaps to his girl-fat tits but knows Jared will suckle them better, and, yeah, god, Jared holds him straight and away so his nipples point forward-up, jelly with Jensen’s quivers. Arms bound behind his back and knees folded underneath him, tied by the ankles, Jensen can’t do much but gasp for the suction-laps of the most perfect mouth and tongue. Jared goes back and forth between them, humming in satisfaction here and there as if he was actually eating from Jensen, and it’s too much, it’s too good.

Jensen gets his balls slapped (and then sucked) for leaking all over his own thighs.

“Hungry, _hungry_ little cunt.”

Jared hisses the words, slaps four out of five fingers over it until it blooms open by itself and he can tape a butterfly vibrator over it, make sobbing-insane Jensen hump down on Jared’s favorite sneakers until he’s coming and then some. He has Jensen clear up the mess and doesn’t take the toy off until he’s decided Jensen is done.

“Now c’mon, Jenny, don’t be selfish. Daddy needs his baby cunt.”

Jensen is still girl-tender but Jared untied his arms so he can get on all fours, get his ass up in the air like Jared likes it best. Jared makes up all the lube a girl could dream of; he’s dripping with it before he’s even took it out of his pants, always.

Jensen melts for the first slide; always.

“Ugh. God, fuck. Feel that?” (Jensen does, he does.) “Yeah, uh-huh. Daddy’s got so much cream for you today—and’s all…gonna end up…right…here.” Grind in, balls to balls. Jared laughs, smacks his ass. “Shit, let’s hope this is one of your safe days, huh.”

When the camera comes out That One Afternoon, Jensen thinks about leaving.

He thinks about it for a long while. Watches his own chin wobble on-screen, sees the chat boiling alive within seconds.

Turns to look up at Jared in the hope of finding something he doesn’t know about, something he cannot _love_. But all there is is Jared Tristan, Jensen’s One, Jensen’s Only, and why would Jensen leave?

“They can’t hear us,” confesses that over-tall boy, looks like shaky knees himself, unsure giant-hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

God. God. “I love you,” and Jensen wishes he wasn’t such a cry-baby.

~

They have enough regulars that they’re discussing The Car Plans. Jared could visit his mom more often, Jensen could go see his little sister’s band perform on weeknights.

Jensen, tied up in pink, is the powerful one here, because he lets it happen. (It’s what Jared says but Jensen is aware himself, he can do the math.)

The chat is never quiet, but today _they_ are. There is a mic close to Jensen. A fee of fifty dollars is what people sent to their shared PayPal account to hear him moan, “Like the bitch you are.”

People wonder what’s up with him, what he is. Is he trans or what, what miracle _is_ J, what god kissed him the way it turned him into that sweet state of perfection?

Jensen’s parents called it God’s Will for the longest time, and Jensen kinda believes that, too. He’s heard it so often. Tried to comfort himself with it. Can’t change it. There is a reason, somewhere.

But he’s wiser now. He knows, now.

Jared both makes and is Jensen’s core.

It’s Jared.

It always is and always was meant to be.

Movement registers just quick enough for Jensen to catch Jared’s thumb activating the magic wand, before things blur ultimately, finally.

He soaks the sheets within seconds and comes in under a minute.

They didn’t set a time limit tonight but they can’t exactly wrap up after less than ten minutes either. No way. Jensen doesn’t have to be told.

Constant pulse switches to slower, more buzzing and gentle, and Jensen sobs, bent tight over the little stool Jared picked up at a garage sale this summer. He’s testing the bondage for the first time tonight, tries to shuffle a bit, just a little to work out the tingles fucking everywhere, but he’s stuck, his knees locked and fixed to the stool’s legs, arms folded behind his back and as immobile as they could be.

The bed dips somewhere behind him. Jensen whimpers. He tries to get a clear view of the laptop screen all safe in front of the bed. Jared taped his ass open. The prostate wand dips in and the lost friction is, it’s just.

If Jared asked him to marry him (tomorrow, for example), Jensen would gladly trip over his own tongue to give his Yes.

~

“This is a birthday _special_ ,” Jensen reminds, carefully staying close to the bathroom door, ready to bolt back in and hide, like, forever.

Jared looks like two hundred pounds of starvation, and Jensen already dreads not making him wait in the bedroom. They just _got_ the couch.

“We’re not gonna repeat this, Jared. This is one time _only_.”

“Yeah, okay, yeah, jus’. C’mere, baby, let me see you. Lemme _see_ you.”

Jared’s eyes work through his hands. Jensen hasn’t been having problems with that for a while now, but he’s shivering here, with fingers and palms and everything running up his bare thighs and under the skirt, the swell of his ass.

The top is not exactly see-through but Jensen’s nipples are rock-hard and the twist of Jared’s tongue just behind his teeth makes it clear that he can see absolutely _all_ of it.

“How do I deserve you, baby.”

“I don’t even know.”

He’s tugged close to stand between Jared’s endless legs, is being stared at like a First Time. He runs his fingers through his fiancé’s hair, tugs it back. Jared’s sweating already.

Jensen makes a face. “This is so weird.”

“Not at all,” breathes Jared. “Sit in my lap? Please?”

Things have gotten quieter ever since they stopped camming. So Jensen’s agreed to the skirt, because. Well, because he loves, and he wants his man happy. That’s normal, right?

“It vibrates,” promises the mouth squished against Jensen’s, breathless and dreamy and soft like Jensen’s about to break. There’s a cherry-lubed trio of fingers snaking in and out the tight pop of his ass, but Jared’s flushed face is what makes Jensen wet-eyed, really.

Two fingers are already working the stubby whatever, flirt over his snug sac. It’s all so compact and tight within the ring—Jared likes him tucked away tidy-small. Jensen tilt-tips his hips so Jared’s dick can ride the crease of it. His toes curl inside the knee socks Jared got him. They’re almost too warm, too much.

“Please.” A murmur-sigh in return; gets kissed with all that tongue, sucks on it like candy. “Please. Need it. Need you to take care of your girl.”

Jensen has tunnel vision.

Hiccups through a flat palm rolling his dicklet up and around, everything buzzing.

Jared’s shoved up somewhere in Jensen where he’s so tight it hurts all the way up to his throat.

He can hear whispers and moans. They’re all about him. They’re all his name.


End file.
